


Wise Men Say

by geeky1992



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Be Careful What You Wish For, Druids, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Magic, Nemeton, Post 3a, Romance, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geeky1992/pseuds/geeky1992
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the pack stops Jennifer, Stiles is leaning against the nemeton watching Derek. Dark, violent, pained Derek, and thinking about the impact his family’s death had on him. He wonders what he’d be like if Kate hadn’t killed them all. Stiles wishes the Hales hadn’t died.</p>
<p>Careful what you wish for....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Ow, ow, dude!” Stiles protests as Scott roughly hoists him out of the remains of the cellar, because of course the idiot thought he was joking when he said to bring a ladder.

 

Scott winces and gives a small “Sorry, man!” before turning to help Allison up the rope made of all their jackets. Seriously, Scott. Ladder.

 

Stiles waves off his apology and begins to babble, “Pffft. Whatever. I wanna ladder. Not a wood one. Wood sucks. Trees are bitches. One hit my jeep! Dick tree...” Aaaand promptly collapsed against the nemeton.

 

Stiles takes a deep breath and lets himself relax against the stump. He maybe probably almost certainly has a concussion.  

 

“Open your eyes.” 

 

Stiles does, though he hadn’t actually been aware that he had shut them in the first place. 

 

Derek’s crouched in front of him looking tired and surly (more so than usual anyway), but he doesn’t seem to have any gaping wounds or organs on display so Stiles counts that as a win. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

 

Stiles squints in concentration. “Four?”

 

Derek scowls, “Two. You need to go to the hospital. Where’s your jeep?”

 

“Uh, yeah, that’s...a no go.”

 

Derek’s scowl deepens at that. “I’ll get the Camaro. Stay here.” Without another word, Derek storms off into the woods.

 

Per usual.

 

Stiles heaves a sigh and wonders, not for the first time, what Derek would be like if things hadn’t gone to shit. If Kate hadn’t gone all _Fatal Attraction_ and killed his family, if Peter hadn’t killed Laura, if he weren’t cursed with a life where another pscho ex who takes advangtage of him and tries to murder everyone he loves is just par for the course.

 

Stiles knows what it’s like to lose a loved one. He still feels the hole where his mom should be but it’s different somehow. His mom’s death was tragic -- disease is tragic -- but for Derek to have to live with the fact that his family died so violently, to know they were trapped, scared, screaming, and burning...if it had been his dad or mom or Scott...he can hardly fathom it. 

 

Stiles feels mutinous tears form in his eyes. Suddenly, he truly wishes Hales were alive. For justice, for the strong, kind family he’s heard stories about, for Cora...

 

For Derek.

 

Stiles let’s his eyes slip closed.

 

* * *

 

When Stiles regains consciousness his first thought is, _holy fuck it’s cold_ quickly followed by, _wet, wet, wet, wet, wet, wet, wet, oh dear god I can’t feel my balls_.

 

Stiles leaps up in shock and quickly tumbles back down into the freezing mud as his ears ring and his vision swims. It’s so cold it burns. Which is, like, the mother of all contradictions and in any other situation he would appreciate that but right now it’s agony. 

 

Stiles gasps as the bitter cold causes his muscles to spasm, totally derailing his third attempt to stand up. 

 

Well, so much for getting out of here on his own two feet.

 

“Scott! Scott, dammit!” Stiles yells. 

 

When only the sound of the howling wind greets him, Stiles decides he is sending Allison every embarassing baby picture of Scott known to man. 

 

“Help!” Stiles yells but his lips tremble and he knows the sound won’t carry. “Please help!”

 

Fuck, where’s Scott and Allison and his dad? What happened? Since when is it 20 degrees and blizzard weather?

 

Something really isn’t right, other than the concussion-hypothermia bit, and this whole thing has the nemeton written all over it.

 

The quick rustle of the trees is all the warning he gets before a young woman bursts into the clearing at a full run. “Are you okay? Kid?” 

 

Stiles goes limp with relief and tries to say, “Hospital, please,” but it sounds more like, “Haaashgnl, leees.”

 

“Okay, just relax,” the brunette instructs as her hands roam over his skull and neck. 

 

Another figure looms over him, “Any breaks?” 

 

Stiles’ breath catches at the familiar voice and he croaks, “Der-Derek?”

 

Then everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles’ body feels heavy and he protests against consciousness but slowly awakens to the feeling of soft sunlight on his face. 

 

He cracks his eyes open enough to see a massive garden outside the window. Gorgeous, serene, and totally not something he recognizes at all.

 

Panic hits him in the gut like a bullet train. Where is he? What happened? He remembers the wreck and the whole climb-out-of-the-creepy-nemeton-shelter bit, but the rest is blurry. Wet, fucking freezing...alone...but then there was a girl...

 

Derek.

 

What the fuck?

 

Stiles has a dull headache but otherwise feels alright as he climbs to his feet. Not that any injury would stop Stiles from finding Sourwolf and demanding answers because what the hell and, seriously, where the hell is he?

 

“Derek Marie Miguel Hale!” Stilles yells as he stomps down the steps to the first floor, which was so far a very posh foyer. 

 

Stiles’ about to yell again when he hears hushed voices and giggling and catches a whiff of what smells like heaven coming from down the hall to his left. 

 

Target aquired.

 

One might say Stiles bursts into the kitchen with more force than neccessary, or intended, but he’s hungry and confused and in need of a major caffeine fix. 

 

Though all that slips away as he takes in the sight of a huge family. Most everyone is sitting down at the table but a few kids Stiles’ never seen before hover around what appears to be Derek fucking Hale cooking _crepes_.

 

His dramatic entrance seems to have garnered attention, though, as the whole room turns to observe him standing in the doorway gaping like a fish.

 

“Oh, hey,” the brunette he’d seen in the clearing says as she rises from her seat and approaches him with a friendly smile, “You’re up! How’re you feeling?”

 

“I-” Suddenly he recognizes her long dark hair, silver-green eyes, and attractive, familiar bone structure. 

 

Laura Hale.

 

“I’ll be with you momentarily.” Stiles replies before darting over to the trash can in the corner and puking his lungs into it.

 

As promised, he composes himself quickly and returns to his spot in front of a surprised, not-so-dead Laura Hale. He ignores the feeling of more than a dozen set of eyes on him. 

 

“I would’ve accepted a simple answer but I appreciate the evidence,” Laura notes with a small smirk.

 

Stiles grimaces apologetically, “Heh, sorry.”

 

Laura waves him off, “It’s cool, happens to the best of us. Want some breakfast or is it too soon?”

 

“It’s never too soon for food.” Stiles replies gravely. 

 

Laura snorts at him before sashaying back to her seat and gesturing at a couple empty chairs beside her.

 

Stiles keeps his head ducked low as he sits beside her, but he’s already spotted Peter and Cora. He’s scared to look at what are presumably the rest of the dead Hales. 

 

He so confused. He’s lightheaded, his ears are ringing, and he’s about two seconds from a panic attack when a hand drops onto his shoulder. He can’t explain how, but instinctually he knows it’s Derek’s. 

 

And just like that, his anxiety ebbs and fades because Derek’s here. Derek’s here, so no matter what crazy shit is going on, he’s not alone.

 

Derek places a plate of crepes in front him and takes a seat on his other side.

 

* * *

 

Stiles is endlessly grateful that no one questions him as he eats. Instead the table discusses things like school, college, work, and lacrosse. Normal topics. 

 

He can tell they are painfully curious, though. And after Laura comments on the weather for the third time, Stiles decides to show mercy and release the krakon (otherwise known as Stiles).

 

Stiles looks up from his plate for the first time since he sat down and punches Derek in the shoulder. “These crepes are incredible, dude! I am in awe of you crepe-ing!”

 

Derek, to his total surpise, smiles widely (And, hello, when did Derek get dimples?) and even does the ‘aw shucks’ head duck and faint blush combo. “Thanks, I’ve been trying a lot of new recipes, lately.”

 

Stiles raises an eyebrow despite himself. This is only the second time he’s ever even seen Derek in a kitchen, let alone cook. “You must cook a lot then.”

 

Derek tips his head consideringly. “Most days. Depends how you define a lot, I suppose.”

 

Stiles emits a low whistle, “Dude, I’m a teenager, I define once a week as a lot.”

 

“Sophmore?” Laura asks. Stiles had kinda forgotten she was there. 

 

Stiles shakes his head. “Junior...I’m Stiles, by the way.”

 

Laura’s smile is infectious. “Nice to meet you, Stiles, I’m--”

 

“Laura Hale,” Stiles blurts before he can think better of it. The whole table falls silent.

 

Oops. Well, too late now. Might as well just go with it. Stiles nods to his left, “Derek,”  

then points across the table, “and Cora,” then he gestures to the head of the table, “and Peter and I’m guessing Talia Hale.”

 

Stiles clears his throat after a beat of awkward silence. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t recognize the rest of you...Look, this is going to sound insane, because it kind of is, but I know you -- a few of you anyway -- and last night a whole bunch a weird magical shit went down and I’ve either been transported to an alternate reality or I’ve straight up rewritten history.”

 

No one seems particularly outraged by this but the Hales do eye him with deep skepticism. Apparently, it’s difficult to outright shock a family of werewolves. Go figure.

 

“Okay, fair enough,” Stiles turns to Derek. “Ask me some questions only some who knows you would have the answers to.”

 

Derek, bless him, takes his task seriously. “What color are my eyes?”

 

“Blue.”

 

“Really? My driver’s license says they’re hazel.”

 

“No, they are definitely blue. Cora has the really cool gold. Hey, I’ve always wondered, are blue, gold, and red the only eye colors for werewolves or are there more? Silver would be pretty rad.”

 

That’s about when all hell breaks loose.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's ridiculously short. But I wrote and rewrote this scene a dozen times and decided to just post it and go with it before I go crazy. Any and all feedback appreciated! :)

It’s all a blur of controlled chaos after that -- Cora and a twenty-something guy Stiles doesn’t recognize usher the kids out the door and into the car for school so fast you’d think tardiness was an offense punishable by death while Derek firmly steers Stiles out of the kitchen and into what is easily the coolest home library in existence.

Derek gestures for him to sit and takes a seat himself. Laura arrives almost immediately and takes a place by Derek. It’s quiet as they sit -- Stiles thinks they’re waiting for Talia -- but Stiles is surprised that it’s not a hostile silence. There’s a curiosity and electricity to the air but neither Derek nor Laura appear to think he’s dangerous or malintentioned. That’s something, at least.

Stiles is busy trying to figure out where to even begin explaining everything when Talia, Peter, and a blonde man in his fifties enter the room. 

“Stiles,” Talia begins, “I must apologize for the commotion, this is...unprecedented. I hope you can forgive the manhandling.” Her dark eyes slide to Derek pointedly.

Stiles lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “It’s fine, Mrs. Hale, really. I realize I dropped a pretty big bomb on you guys. Seriously, I’m just happy nobody’s slammed me into a wall yet...” 

“Does that happen often?” Derek demands, looking hilariously horrified by the idea. In fact, all the Hales look concerned.

Oh boy.

“Eh...no? I mean, whaaaat?”

And now they look even more concerned. Oh my god, shut up, Stiles...

Stiles sighs and decides to change the topic. “So, look, I know you guys must have a ton questions, but I gotta warn you -- I really don’t know much. This wasn’t exactly intentional...I have no idea where to start.”

“Well, you could start with how you know me?” Laura suggests. “It’d at least get the ball rolling.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know you, know you, though. I know of you--”

“How?”

Stiles balks but decides to rip the band-aid off. “My best friend found your dead body -- sorry, half of your dead body -- in the woods.”

Huh, Stiles didn’t know werewolves could look green. 

“Oh,” Laura replies, looking a little dazed, “That’s...oh. So I’m dead, in your world/universe/timeline/what-have-you?”

“Yes. The night my friend, Scott, found your body he was bitten by the werewolf that killed you. Being a big klutz, he dropped his asthma inhaler so when we went back to get it we bumped into Derek. Who sorta threw Scott’s inhaler at us and told us to get off his property like Clint freaking Eastwood,” Stiles does his best growl, “GET OFF MY LAWN! Rude. And then--oh god, this is going to take forever if we start from the beginning. So let’s just establish some facts: Paige’s virgin blood (yes, Derek, your Paige) activated this freaky fucking stump called the nemeton. There was this really pissed off druid chick called a Darach who killed a bunch of people to further harness the nemeton’s dark powers. After we killed her, I was lying on the nemeton while everyone escaped the ruins of that basement thing and, uh, now I’m here. Also, Derek has a terrifying tendency to date psychopaths. I suggest thoroughly vetting all of his future dates. Seriously.”

...and we’re back to silence.

It’s amazing how differently all the Hale’s react, though. Peter looks as if he is watching a particularly interesting tennis match while the nameless blond man looks pale and unnerved. Derek looks both confused and a little offended while Laura appears to be very interested in killing someone. Anyone.

Talia, on the other hand, absorbs the information with a composure that even to a human like Stiles screams Alpha. Stiles decides to focus on her.

She, however, turns to focus on the blonde guy. “Could the nemeton do something like this, Liam?”

The guy, Liam, nods gravely and speaks with a lilting accent, “I haven’t seen such a thing happen personally but I’d put all my money on the nemeton being one of the only things capable of altering time and fate. Or, possibly, allowing dimensional travel.” As he turns, the light catches his eyes and Stiles recognizes them to be the same color as Derek and Laura’s eyes. “What were you thinking of, Stiles?”

“Uh, when? I think a lot. Pretty scatterbrained.” Stiles resists the urge to jiggle his knee.

“When you were on the nemeton, what were you thinking at the time?”

“Oh! Nothing really, I wasn’t--” Stiles stops abruptly as he realizes it isn’t true. He was thinking about something... “Derek.” Stiles breathes, “I was thinking about Derek.”

“What about me?” Derek asks softly as he leans forward. 

“I-I was thinking about how much you missed this...you and Cora and Peter. It was just so wrong, y’know? There were, there were, fuck, there were kids. They died and you were just a kid too...” Stiles’ voice cracks, “...It wasn’t fair. What happened wasn’t fair so I wished it hadn’t happened.”

Stiles can’t remember the last time he felt this overwhelmed; there are so many emotions consuming him. Grief. Frustration. Empathy. Sympathy. Anger. Disgust.

Guilt.

Guilt, because suddenly every insensitive thing he’s ever said to Derek, every joke he’d made in poor taste, echoes in his ears. 

Stiles vivdly recalls calling Derek a weirdo for living in the ruins of the Hale mansion. He remembers thinking him melodramatic for choosing to live in a veritable haunted house. Now, it hits him that it wasn’t a choice. Derek had lost the last of his family in Laura...that burnt shell was the closest thing to a family Derek had left. 

Stiles is plagued by imagined images of Derek finding Laura in the woods, tears staining his face. Derek having to carry Laura back to the ashes of their home...God, she’d been torn in half...there would have been guts out...and Stiles knows without doubt that Derek wouldn’t have left any part of her behind at the thought of some animal eating her...

All Stiles can see now is Derek trying to bury all the pieces of his sister as he remembers how excited he was at the thought of finding her body.

He feels sick.

He runs.

\-----


End file.
